A Dark Beginning
by Dylan Ryder
Summary: An interesting twist on Batman's origin story. Enjoy!


The fate of everything hung in the balance again. But it was different this time. It might've seemed like the Justice League was winning the fight against Darkseid, but something felt off about the whole thing. Batman thought so anyway. After what felt like weeks of fighting, Darkseid's forces suddenly withdrew. The rest of the League celebrated a victory, and began repairing damages.

Batman, however, was skeptical that the battle was truly over. At the Watchtower, the League's orbital space station, Batman sat at the main console in the command center. He stared out the large window, racking his brain, trying to figure out what Darkseid could be planning.

He didn't notice Superman approach from behind. "Bruce, you have to be capable of having some fun." Batman turned toward his friend. "I can't be the only one that thinks this isn't over Clark. Darkseid wouldn't just give up and leave. He's planning something." Superman placed a hand on Batman's shoulder. "Come downstairs. Enjoy yourself a little. He'll be back, you're right. But all we can do right now is wait.

Batman was about to give in. But before he could say anything, there came a blinding flash of light from outside the window. White circles of energy materialized there, swirling and sparking. Superman looked at Batman. "A boom tube." He flew down the stairs. Batman returned to the console and began initiating the tower's defense systems.

When he looked back towards the window, he was filled with horror. Wonder Woman, Superman, Green Lantern, Martian Manhunter, Hawkgirl, and twenty or so other leaguers were already waiting outside the boom tube for whatever was coming through. What came was much worse than they thought. A huge, red beam of energy exploded through the tube, hitting hero after hero, disintegrating them where they hovered. One after another, Batman's friends fell in an instant. He couldn't believe what he was seeing.

The beam hit the Watchtower, causing an explosion that shook the entire station, and sending Batman sprawling to the floor. The tower began tilting towards the Earth. "Bruce! Bruce!!" The communicator in Batman's gauntlet sounded. Batman lifted his wrist closer to his face. "I'm here." On the other end, Barry Allen, AKA the Flash, spoke in a terrified tone. "Bruce...they're gone. All of them….they-" Batman interrupted. "I know. Barry….I'm going to initiate the failsafe. Get everyone through the zeta tubes." Barry sounded even more scared. "Bruce, I don't like your tone. You're coming too."

Bruce looked out the window again. "The whole tower is listing towards the planet. That means we lost a thruster. If we lose another, this station will fall to the Earth and thousands will die. Get the others and leave. Now." With that, Batman turned off his communicator and returned to the console. He punched in the override code and started the failsafe. He removed his glove and scanned his handprint on the computer. _Voice verification required._ The computer buzzed. "Wayne." Batman said. Confirmed. _Initiate Watchtower failsafe operation?_

He just had to hope Barry and everyone else had gotten out of the tower. He glanced out the window. "Initiate." The computer began counting down. But Bruce Wayne wasn't listening. He was sitting by a grand fireplace, playing Jacks with his father. His mother was sitting in a chair nearby, smiling as she watched them play. Alfred came in with a tray of tea and little frosted cakes. Bruce didn't know what they were called, but he'd always loved them. Alfred laughed as Bruce jumped to his feet with joy at the sight of the snacks. His mother and father started laughing. Everyone was laughing. 3...2...1. Another blinding flash of light.

Bruce opened his eyes. He saw a dark night sky. _I'm alive?_ He tried to sit up, but his head throbbed with pain. Slowly he rose to a sitting position. "Where am I?" he said aloud. A gruff voice next to him spoke. "You're in Gotham buddy. Maybe you shouldn't drink so much next time." Bruce turned to see an old man sitting against a brick wall, a bottle of booze in his hand. He looked homeless, wearing a tattered red sweater and pale green overcoat. His long white beard was thin and stringy.

"What?" The man took a slug of his drink. "Then again, maybe I'm the one who's drinkin' too much. 'Cause ain't nobody ever dress like that." Bruce looked down. He was still in his suit, though it was battered and torn. He looked at the old man again. "Do you know how I got here?" The man shrugged his shoulders. "I found you right there an hour ago. Looked like you had a crazy night." Bruce stood, but almost fell back down.

He leaned his arm against the wall for support. He looked around. He was in an alley. Garbage littered the ground. A dumpster stood to one side, a connecting alley to the other. There was something very familiar about the alley. He looked towards the old man once more, but he was slumped over, passed out drunk. _I need to figure out what happened to the tower._ Bruce thought. _But I'm in no condition to be jumping across rooftops, and I can't just go walking around in my suit._ He looked out the alley's entrance and noticed a small clothing store on the street. _Perfect._

The store was closed, so Bruce picked the lock. Silently opening the door, he slipped inside. He grabbed a pair of jeans, a white shirt and a long black trench coat, as well as a flat cap and boots. After dressing, he left a hundred dollar bill on the front counter. He went back to the alley to dispose of the suit. As he went to throw it away, he realized he still had his communicator. He held the gauntlet of his suit up to his mouth. "Barry? Are you there? Barry?!" He waited. Nothing. "Damn." He pulled the communicator from the gauntlet and slipped it into his pocket. He threw the suit away and began walking down the alley, reaching the opposite side in less then a minute.

Bruce couldn't believe what he was looking at. A large movie theater stood just outside the alley. It's golden lights shone brightly in the night. When Bruce read the words of the movie theater's giant display, he had to hold himself up with the wall again. In big black letters, the theater display read:

Hollywood Classic

The Mark of Zorro

Bruce was numb all over. It can't be…" He thought, trying to process what he saw. He turned, and realized why the alley had felt so familiar. He was in crime alley. He tried to figure out how he'd gotten here. He ran to the dumpster and found a newspaper. _No….The date…. How?_ Somehow he'd traveled back in time to the day his parents were murdered.

He didn't know what time it was, but he immediately decided what he had to do. He sprinted down the street, praying it was here. At the corner of the street, he found what he was looking for. A small pawn shop, still open. He ran inside and looked around. Then, he saw it. A small 357 Mag. revolver, it's polished metal reflecting the light from the bulbs above. He lifted the gun. It felt heavy in his hands. He set the cold, metal revolver down in front of the clerk.

He made it back just in time for the movie to let out. He hid in the connecting alley, intent on stopping his parents' death, even if it meant taking a life. He turned when he heard the voices. Coming down the alley was a small boy in a suit with black hair, pretending to fight the bad guys with his trusty sword. Behind him came his parents, the father in an expensive suit and a fedora, and and the mother in a fur coat, pearls gleaming around her neck.

Bruce could barely feel anything. Seeing his parents alive was such a strange experience. He felt the revolver in his pocket. They kept walking, but the thug never came. Bruce didn't understand. He vividly remembered a man in a trench coat appearing from the shadows and taking the life of his mother and father. He glanced down at the clothes he was wearing, and the realization dawned on him. He understood with shock what he had to do. _The world needs Batman._ He thought. _Without me to stop people like Crane and the Joker, who will?_ He thought of the Watchtower. He'd sacrificed himself to save thousands, (or so he thought). _And that won't happen if I don't become Batman….if…..if they live…._

Tears stinging his eyes, he came out from the shadow of the connecting alley. Remembering with terrifying accuracy the hollow words the thug had spoken to his parents, he called them out. Slowly, he pulled the gun from his pocket, tears streaming down his face, though he was careful to keep it hidden in the shadows. His father put up his hands and tried to get the pearl necklace from around his mother's neck.

Bruce was no longer in control of his body. He was vaguely aware of pulling the trigger, sending a bullet into his own father's chest, then his mother's. He stumbled out of the alley, barely hearing his own screams behind him. Time passed. Bruce walked, with no direction. The world around him was a blur, nothing but hazy passing images. Somehow he ended up on the bridge connecting Miagani and Founder's Island, two of three that compose Gotham City.

He looked out at the water, watching it roll along aimlessly. _Why? Why am I still here?_ He thought indistinctly. He looked at the sky. Suddenly his emotions bubbled over. "WHY DID I HAVE TO DO THIS?!" He screamed at nothing. His gaze returning to the water. He thought about how peaceful it looked. Looking around once more, he jumped over the railing.

The next morning, a fisherman came to shore in a rush. He drove quickly to the hospital and told the nurse at the front desk about the man he'd found early that morning. Doctors brought him in on a stretcher and took him to a room. When the nurse came in to check on him a few minutes later, she heard a sound coming from deep within the man, a sound that resonated throughout his body, and sent chills down her spine. Laughter. The laughter of a man who knows the funniest joke in the world, but can't quite remember the punchline.


End file.
